


Diabolus in musica

by bellygunnr



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Foot Jobs, HEV Stress Relief Subroutines, M/M, Masturbation, Pet Play, Short Chapters, Short Drabbles, catboy, request-based, this is just a smut collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26518030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: Chapter 1: HEV suit jerkoff sesh, HEV style.Chapter 2: Barney "Public Humiliation" CalhounChapter 3: Soft petplay with CathounChapter 4: Public footjob moments
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 7
Kudos: 156





	1. HEV

_In the future..._

Testing the HEV suit was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be a short run today, a brief stamina test to see if it was reading vital signs correctly, but that had gone south about five minutes in. The suit pulsed around his body, robotic voice murmuring from the collar.

_Extreme stress levels detected. Activating autonomous relief protocol._

Then the pulsing shifted, concentrating around this thighs and rear. He felt friction in places he hadn't touched in decades-- the malleable suit was cupping his balls, gently kneading them with a precision that was surprising, and felt very good. He could feel himself stiffen up. With shaking knees, he presses his back against the wall and slides to the ground.

As his dick stiffens, the suit seems to stretch to accommodate it. The sensation is surprisingly slick-- he's grateful for it, however, as something firm rolls up from the base of his cock to the tip. His back arches with surprise, a choked groan leaving him.

Barney sticks a gloved hand in his mouth, biting down on his thumb, swallowing any errant noise that might escape. The suit was finding its rhythm, finding sensitive spots to rub and pulse around with a surprising dexterity. Again that firmness rolls over his dick; to his dismay, he bucks into it, teeth gnawing on the kevlar gloves.

His breathing is coming fast and hot. The suit chimes, and the pace increases. Barney can't muffle a high, drawn moan as the living suit suddenly goes for the kill-- hot, wet suction coupled with more friction has him at climax, vision blacking.

It takes him far too long to come back down. He doesn't even hear the suit.

* * *

_In the past..._

the suit's been acting up for awhile now. something about a stress relief protocol that activated the moment you put it on and hasn't shut off since. of course, it's been long enough that you've gotten the gist of the protocol, as it's been teasing you for the better part of four hours. it was either a blessing or a curse that the supervisors hadn't noticed your fucked up vitals or the suit's subroutines. maybe God just hates you, or doesn't exist at all.

you're thinking the latter, because Barney Calhoun is here to bring you back to the HEV bay. you blink up at him. 

"Wanna hear something funny?" you start with, hands shaking. 

"Uhh... What'd that be, Doc?" Barney asks, head tilting curiously. 

"Suit's been trying to get me off for hours. There's a side room over there. Let's go," you say, and don't wait for an answer.

you grab his wrist and pull him along. you don't actually want to be alone for this, and besides, it's just another feather in both of your hats. ever since you started dating, fucking wherever and however you could was the name of the game. black mesa was a stifling place, after all.

"Wh-- you serious? I thought that shit was jokes," Barney sputters. 

he still ducks inside after you, locking the door. you drop to the ground with a muted clang, legs spreading wide to give the suit better access. almost immediately, it reacts, the underskin tightening and the codpiece whirring to life. a slick, heated bulb slots itself between your legs, probing with little care. you rock your hips, moaning as it eases inside.

barney lowers himself beside you, looking bright red and a little shy, but he raises your head off the wall. he’s a strong presence. you knew he would be. 

“Well, shoot. It’s got you a right mess, huh?” he says, drawl coming in thick. he pulls you in close, running a hand through your sweaty hair. “Does-- does it feel good? It ain’t hurtin’ ya, is it?”

you smile up at him. any response is lost as you’re lost into a sudden spike of pleasure, the metal suit scraping as your legs tense up. again and again, the bulb pulses, vibrating as it begins to push in and out of you. it’s a good feeling-- foreign, but surprisingly controlled and effective. you reach up to pull Barney into a kiss.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he mumbles, meeting you half-way. 

you pull him into you, shamelessly humping against as frame as he straddles you. you swallow any little noises he makes, moaning into his mouth. the suit was picking up speed, its mechanical apparatus thrusting into you, striking perfectly where you rolled your hips with the motion. it felt good, but you were starting to wish it pushed a little deeper.

Barney pulls back, his hands wrapped around your waist. he’s panting hard, flushed red from forehead to neck, drool dripping from the corner of his lip. he has his hips pressed surreptitiously against the vibrating hull of the suit’s codpiece. 

“Kinda-- kinda doin’ things for me,” Barney admits, laughing a little. “All of this.”

you try to nod, but all you do is moan and buck beneath him. the suit’s chosen this moment to pick up the pace once more-- and include something else. another foreign piece, surprisingly supple and pliable, has started to roll itself against your clit, eliciting a shaky groan. your glasses slide free from your face as you shamelessly start to rut against Barney-- both for your benefit and his, as it’s so nice to watch him squirm, his own choked groan filling the space. 

he moves to kiss you again, but you fail to reciprocate, suddenly lost in the staticky wash of an orgasm. distantly, you feel his lips against your goatee, peppering your jaw with little kisses, but you’re content to go boneless beneath him.

once you come back around, you’ll be more than happy to return the favor.


	2. Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quickie in the break room, or something like that.

It was kind of infuriating. Gordon had this impassive, kind of stern expression on his face while he wrote notes one-handed, his other arm snaked under the table. Barney watches him, his own hands on top, fingers drumming restlessly while he yammered about anything and everything. There was a crack in the ceiling, a lightbulb was going out, and oh, he had to refresh his Security certs next weekend. 

“I’m not lookin’ forward to it,” Barney rambles, leg jogging. His eyes flick to the break room exit. “But after it-- nngh-- I’ll be able to- suu-upervise,” he finishes breathlessly. 

Gordon, still without twitching, had squeezed Barney’s cock as he moved his hand. His thumb ran across the head, pressing down deliberately. 

“Oh, I heard the uh- supermarket is gettin’ new fruit,” Barney says. “Cherries, I think. I might make a pie in celebration.”

Gordon’s hand twists as he pumps up and down. Measured, controlled, deliberate. His handwriting is still immaculate, eyes locked onto the paper.

“Do you know if we still have--” Barney’s breath hitches, hips bucking. His fingers dig into the laminated wood, skin flushing a deeper red. “Still… have flour, back home? Not gonna-- answer me, huh?”

The pace was picking up. Short, tight strokes that twisted sometimes and rubbed at the sensitive skin, bringing Barney to the edge, quicker than he expected. His breath was shortening, and his gaze was fixating on the open doorway, train of thought wrecked.

When Gordon looks at him, it’s with a slight scratch of his pen. He takes in Barney’s expression as he shudders and bites his lip, riding through the orgasm with a low, muffled whine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: petplay and uh... more public stuff. Whoops.


	3. Cathoun Petplay

Gordon has been scratching behind your ears for several moments now, hot breath caressing your cheek while he murmurs gentle praises, each word and stroke leeching another measure of tension out of your body. His free hand rests on your side, long fingers idly caressing the shaggy fur that’s long since started to grow in earnest. Occasionally, the touches send a jolt down your spine, trying to incite a reaction, but you quell it in favor of burying your nose in his stomach. Yet, when he drums his fingers lightly against your head, you look up, tongue peeking past your lip.

He leans over you and places a scratchy kiss on your forehead. You purr, a sputtering sound, and heave yourself deeper into his lap so that your stomach is cradled by his crossed legs. The laugh he makes, low and breathless, makes you purr harder. You try not to purr so loud that you drown him out, however, but it’s a challenge.

“I’m proud of you,” Gordon says in that low, lilting voice of his. “You did good today.”

Good, good, good. Proud, proud, proud. You flex your hands until the claws slide out and knead idly at the worn blanket stretched haphazardly across the bed. The words penetrate slowly, seeping into your bones like gelatin through a sieve. There was a time where you’d reject the sentiments outright.

But like Gordon said… you did good today.

He runs both of his hands down your spine, this time applying his nails. At the base of your tail, he digs in and scratches, making your spine arch. Your tail curls loosely around his arm, switching back and forth. The next moment, a hand is back in your hair, scratching gently.

“It takes a lot of effort and strength to let yourself rest, Barney,” Gordon continues. “It feels like surrendering sometimes. I know. But you did great today.”

The blanket is frayed at the edges where you’ve kneaded it most over the years. You rumble softly, deep in your chest now, as you pick at the loose, faded threads. Your body has sunken back into the throes of relaxation, the muscles heavy and lax, your mind starting to quiet. The only sensation is Gordon’s hands on your body, his fingers working small circles around your neck and shoulders. His voice remains clear even as you feel yourself drift off.

* * *

_Earlier that day…_

The collar, perfectly visible, sits heavy but not unpleasantly on your neck. It rattles gently with each light movement, and jingles loudly with the tinny ring of a bell when you move too much, often dragging several pairs of eyes toward you. You don’t mind it, so long as Gordon is at your back, observing you over the rim of his glasses even as he works away at his research notes. You chance a look at him, tail flicking loosely at your ankles, trying not to lean too hard on any one leg.

Your right leg was acting up today, after all. The bone-deep ache had become an acute sting, radiating throughout the thigh and cramping the calf, worse than usual but not its highest point. You could live with it, could work with it, and that’s exactly what you’re about to do when a pair of rebels try to enlist your help ferrying boxes.

The second you stride forward to pick up the third box, focused on keeping yourself upright, two clicks sound from behind you. You freeze, hissing in pain as you land wrong.

Another two clicks. Not loud, but thunderous to you. You turn to look over at Gordon, ears pinned back.

Though he says nothing, you get the message perfectly, the notion conveyed perfectly through a set jaw and downturned eyebrows. You let the box slide out of your grasp and you turn on your heel, but stop short once more when Gordon clicks on his pen again. Apologize, he signs. Then come.

“I uh-- I’m sorry, I don’t think I can help you after all,” you say, tripping over your words.

When you finally reach Gordon’s side, he reaches up to scratch under your chin and push you down into a chair. You slump forward immediately. Gingerly, you grasp his offered wrist to rasp your tongue across his calloused knuckles. It’s a pleasantly rough texture.


	4. Footing the Bill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's feet! footjobs! whoopsies!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requests allowed below

Underneath the reception desk was surprisingly spacious-- or Gordon Freeman was extraordinarily skinny, all wiry muscle and visible ribs. He was folded in on himself, knees up to his chest while his calves were extended, partially supported by Barney’s just barely-spread thighs. He had his ankles cocked, feet turned inward to manipulate Barney’s exposed dick between the balls of his feet and even his toes, occasionally rolling outward to grind the shaft along his arches. It was uncomfortable at times, but well worth it to feel Barney shudder and shake under him. 

“Ah, Dr. Garcia. Glad you’re here-- I’m supposed to tell you your meeting’s been rescheduled to three this afternoon. I know, I know, it’s-- a pain,” Barney’s smooth voice hitches a little, wobbling on the final syllable. “But gives you a little more time to finish that project, eh? Take it easy, now.”

Gordon is silent as he works. He can feel Barney’s cock throb and he chases the sensation, gliding his right foot across the entire length.

The chair creaks as Barney shifts back, surreptitiously trying to rock his hips into the motion while the front desk suffers a lull in traffic. The desk thrums with his drumming fingers, rhythmic and fast, vibrating the back of Gordon’s skull. He manages to jam a toe into Barney’s thigh-- a warning, you’re moving too much.

As soon as he gives the order, he works his feet faster, ignoring the shaking in his thighs and the burning in his abdomen. This position was difficult to hold for long-- but for Barney, who was starting to talk again, he’d do anything. He lets his eyes drift close, becoming acutely aware of his dulcet tones. 

As Barney inhaled, he pressed down, pinning his cock between his thigh and the curve of his foot. He relished in the sharp hitch and the shuddering syllable, the broken sound swallowed too late. Carefully, he picks his cock back up between his toes, returning to working them diligently around the heavy girth. The strangled little noise Barney makes is rewarding.

Barney’s breath is growing heavy between words. He’s pausing every other sentence as Gordon works him closer to climax, stuttering when his thoughts derail. There’s a relieved sigh-groan as the next customer leaves. Gordon turns into a choked squeak, abruptly squeezing his cock between the arches of his feet and rolling upwards.

Barney comes messily. The desk shudders as he slams his palms down on the desk and immediately tries to pass it off as frustration.


	5. Wrestling/feel good

It had started with stretches. Each of them stretched before going to bed-- out of necessity, as both their jobs demanded certain physical keystones from them, and daily attendance was the only way to maintain them. Full-body stretches, performed side-by-side, close enough proximity to grab each other and correct an errant form or, better yet, track kisses across the bare skin while it stretched and pulled taut with each fluid motion. Teeth, lightly applied, scrape across the curve of bone and muscle, leaving a welt of red in their wake. Hands, ghosting across his sides, trailed after by long nails that sometimes dig in when the round edge of a hip juts out.

“You’re awfully touchy today,” Barney says, tilting his head back to peer up at Gordon. His breath comes out unsteady, skin flushed around his face and neck. “What’s the occasion?”

In answer, silent as ever, Gordon pulls Barney into a kiss. He slides a hand over the curve of his stomach, up his chest, all the way up to his neck, where he lets his fingers linger over Barney’s warm throat for a few fluttering seconds. Then, gently, he grasps his strong chin and lets his tongue flick at the corner of his lips.

Barney huffs, opening his mouth and settling back against Gordon’s knees, muscles trembling where they relax from supporting his weight. He hums as Gordon licks past his lips and rubs against his own tongue, the angle awkward but serviceable. The occasion was quickly becoming obvious, if the way Gordon was trying to straddle his head was any indicator. He raises his arms and takes the meat of Gordon’s calves into his hands, squeezing the flesh.

The kiss breaks. They stare, hot breaths mingling just centimeters apart, eyes locked.

Then Barney heaves, bracing his feet against the floor as he heaves his heavy frame upwards, twisting around to grab hold of Gordon’s right leg and pull it out from under him. Before he can topple completely down, however, he grabs him around the torso and hauls him into the air, swinging him out of harm’s way.

Gordon reacts by swiftly kicking him in the knee, expression contorting into something smug when Barney buckles, surprised-- but they both stumble away from each other, caught off-guard by different things. The bedroom draws deafeningly quiet, the silence thickest in the gulf between them.

“I see how it is,” Barney says finally, getting to his feet. He shakes out his arms and hands, twists back and forth a few times. “Let’s go. What’s my prize if I win?”

“Figure it out,” Gordon signs, and lunges.

The bed creaks as Gordon pushes Barney onto the mattress, clambering on top of him with surprising speed. He grabs his wrists and that’s where his forward momentum ends, stopped cold by the tension in Barney’s muscles. His arms shake as he tries to push down, standing on his knees to leverage his weight onto his hands, and his only indicator of success is a strained grunt.

“Come onnn, Gordon,” Barney growls, peering up at him with hooded eyes. “Is that the best you’ve got? I ain’t impressed.”

Barney pulls his arms out from Gordon’s grasp with surprising ease. In the same motion, he tickles his stomach, surging forward to flip them over when Gordon writhes and twists. They grapple around each other, the cheap bed frame groaning and shifting under their erratic movements. Pain blooms out across Barney’s back where sharp nails dig in with a vengeance, raking across the soft, exposed skin. His spine arches and he groans, a guttural, seething thing that seeps out through gritted teeth.

Again, Gordon rakes, dragging his nails around the curve of Barney’s back to his heavy belly. He’s partially pinned down by his bulk, but he’s got nails and teeth, the latter of which he utilizes by twisting around and sinking his teeth into the meat of Barney’s arm. His jaw clamps down, nostrils flaring with each pant, excitement roiling under his skin at the sensation of pulsing flesh between his teeth. When he releases, it’s to lick a hot stripe all the way to his shoulder.

Heat and electricity zip over his skin as Barney suddenly rolls his hips, grinding their crotches together. His arousal is prominent-- and the boxers leave nothing to the imagination, thin and pulled tight as they are. He makes some keening, high noise as Barney continues to grind against him, spurred on by lingering pain.

“Goddamn, Gord,” Barney pants, voice thick. “Y’should do that again.”

Thick fingers pry at Gordon’s waistband and drag them down, just past his rear. Then Barney grabs his ass, squeezing and cupping the flesh while he drags his clothed erection across his muff.

Gordon arches his back, raps his knuckles across Barney’s chest until they lock eyes and the room takes a breath, their wrestling slowing to a crawl.

“Finger me, then I’ll ride you,” Gordon says, punctuating each sign with a kiss. He pulls at Barney’s lower lip with his teeth, gentle.

“Whatever you say, Gordie,” Barney huffs, but his eyes darken, hungry.

Satisfied, Gordon settles back, kicking off his boxers. He hums, hoarse, as Barney gently brings his legs apart.

Barney takes his time, brushing his fingers along the inside of Gordon’s thighs. He rolls the flesh between his fingers experimentally and combs through the hair, occasionally tracing lines between clusters of freckles. Each pass has him working his way further up, pausing only to gently dig his thumb into the pulse point.

“Barney,” Gordon says warningly.

Barney grins, but complies, finally putting a hand between Gordon’s legs proper. His thumb sinks past the folds, rubbing slow circles against his clit. Then he slides his hand down lower, sinking his index finger inside Gordon. He pauses there, just past the first knuckle, looking for--

Gordon rocks his hips over his hand while making a stern expression, clearly demanding more.

Flushing, Barney quickly obliges, pumping the one finger a few times before slowly adding a second. He rumbles low in his throat, a bit lost in the hot, wet sensation, exacerbated by the addition of a third finger.

“You look good, Gordon,” Barney starts, voice low. “So good. And you feel good-- gonna feel even better once I’m inside you, though…”

Gordon moves in time with his hand, low, squeaky moans escaping him. As Barney picks up the pace, he follows along, back arching to chase the angle. Yet, just as his breath grows ragged and he claws at the sheets with desperation, Barney leaves. He whines in protest, even reaching forward to grab Barney’s wrist and pull it back in.

Barney pouts, jutting his lip out. He stares at their joined hands for a long moment, silent but imploring.

Gordon pulls himself forward using Barney’s arm before relenting. Carefully, he fishes Barney’s cock free from his boxers with clumsy hands, thighs trembling with want. He bites his lip at the low groan Barney makes when his fingers wrap around his shaft, clearly oversensitive from how long he’s been neglected.

Spreading his legs, he brings himself up and over, letting Barney do the guiding as he lowers himself down. A breathy, fluttering groan leaves him as, steadily, Barney’s cock fills him. He rocks his hips impatiently, taking it all in with a sharp, practiced movement.

“God, fuck,” Barney groans. “You’re so good, Gordon!”

Before he can say anything else, Gordon pulls Barney into another kiss, hands tight around his jaw. He licks into his maw, swallowing every little noise that follows. His breath comes out uneven and fast as he starts to move, bringing his hips up and down over Barney’s dick. When strong hands grab at his waist, he lets himself be pulled flush against him.

Soft moans and frantic grunts fill the space, both of them lost to impatience and raw need. At some point, Barney eases Gordon onto his back so that he can fuck into him properly.

“You’re beautiful,” he groans. “Just-- so gorgeous… And smart, and strong…”

Gordon brings his hands up to grab Barney’s face. He shoves his thumb into his mouth, presses it onto his tongue until Barney gets the memo and sucks on it. He runs the digit across his teeth, focusing on the hard edges while heat coils tighter in his stomach.

Barney makes low, rough, aborted noises into the palm of Gordon’s hand, absently biting at the flesh as he thrusts. It takes a keening whine from Gordon for the rest of his composure to slip-- with a muffled moan, he comes, shaking. He barely manages to left himself up enough for Gordon to finish, hips rocking desperately until he, too, melts.

“I love you,” Gordon signs against his chest, free hand trembling.

Barney merely drops his head into the crook of Gordon’s neck, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an older piece. im not like.. happy with it? but hey! its finished!


End file.
